TALKING MONEY WITH DAN MARINO; Playing It Cautious After the Game's Over

For 15 years, Dan Marino just kept earning more money. Soon after joining the Miami Dolphins in 1983 with a four-year, $2.1 million contract, he became their star quarterback. By the time he retired after the 1999 season, he was earning $6 million a year.

In the interim, the high-school-handsome quarterback with the tousled hair and perfect high-arc passes became one of the most popular players in pro football. His indomitable spirit, which kept him on the field when he was so badly injured that even walking seemed tough, helped make him a legend in South Florida.

Some sports legends make it to both the Hall of Fame and bankruptcy court. But not Dan Marino. In all the years he was mesmerizing fans with his comeback drives, his contracts totaled about $50 million and he amassed a nest egg that associates now value at $40 million to $45 million. Although Mr. Marino declined to comment specifically, they say he has about $23 million in liquid assets, $15 million in personal real estate and several million dollars in private investments that include a golf course, office buildings and a bank.

He is still a big earner: as a co-host of ''Inside the N.F.L.'' on HBO and ''The N.F.L. Today'' on CBS, Mr. Marino probably takes home about $2 million a year. And he continues to earn more than $1 million a year from endorsements for Nabisco, part of Kraft Foods, as well as AutoNation, the car dealership chain, associates say.

His TV performances have been successful. Since Mr. Marino joined CBS, it has narrowed the ratings gap with Fox's ''N.F.L. Sunday.'' Still, there is no telling how long that career will last. Neither Joe Montana nor Joe Namath made it on television.

''When athletes play, they view themselves as invincible,'' said Marvin Demoff, Mr. Marino's longtime agent. ''Once you stop playing and you go to the network, you realize that other people can do what you do, and lots of them don't work out.''

While quarterbacks are expert at sizing up situations and overseeing split-second responses, Mr. Marino has shown little interest in playing that role on the investment turf. Mr. Marino rarely disagrees with his advisers.

The end of his playing career has already affected how Mr. Marino, 41, thinks about money. According to Mr. Demoff, two years ago Mr. Marino considered moving to a costlier home, with an estimated price of about $14 million, on Jupiter Island, Fla. Though cost was only one factor, he ultimately decided against it.

Not that he does not live well. He and his wife, Claire, and their six children -- including two adopted daughters -- live in a palatial Italian-style villa in Westin, Fla., near Ft. Lauderdale.

The formal living room -- with marble floors, velvet sofas and cathedral ceilings -- could be found in many a high-end house. But the family room bears the mark of Mr. Marino's fame. Aside from the requisite giant-screen television and oversize leather arm chairs, there are glass cabinets crammed with trophies.

A golf cart sits in the driveway alongside his 1989 Porsche -- the only car he owns, but not the only one he drives. AutoNation routinely lends him cars. He is now driving a Ford Excursion.

Sitting in his family room, dressed in blue slacks and a sports shirt, he talked somewhat hesitantly about his finances. He did not, in fact, seem greatly interested in investments. Frequently, he would refer either to Mr. Demoff, now a managing director for Neuberger Berman L.L.C., an asset management firm in New York, where he oversees a division that handles investments for athletes, or to his money manager, Francis Frankel, known as Shorty, also at Neuberger. ''My business is me,'' Mr. Marino said. ''I let them do the investing.''

Though he has hung onto much of his fortune, Mr. Marino does not compare himself to stars like John Elway, once quarterback for the Denver Broncos, who built a series of car dealerships. ''John prides himself on being a businessman,'' Mr. Marino said. ''I never did.'' He can tick off some stocks he owns, but his first interest remains sports and his television programs.

He and his wife have done well in real estate, though, in part because prices in South Florida have risen so sharply. Their sun-washed yellow home, surrounded by bougainvillea, is not their only holding, though it is by far the costliest. One local real estate agent valued it at $8 million.

In 1991, they bought land on Jupiter Island, planning one day to build the beach house his wife wanted. ''We paid about $1 million for the lot, but it was a great investment,'' he said. The land is now probably worth about $4 million, real estate agents say. The couple also own a small house elsewhere on Jupiter, valued about $1.5 million.

Two years ago, the Marinos saw that dream house, and contemplated selling the lot and the two houses they already owned.

BUT first Mr. Marino turned for advice to Mr. Demoff, who made a chart detailing how Mr. Marino's finances would change if he bought the house. At the time, Mr. Marino did not have two television deals, and Mr. Demoff concluded that with Mr. Marino's future earning power unsure, such a large purchase carried a certain risk.

''Once Dan saw that risk, he said, 'O.K., I will do nothing -- I will start worrying more about the future,' '' Mr. Demoff recalled.

Mr. Marino's request for a detailed economic analysis of the move was no surprise to his advisers. ''Dan has always been someone who asked: 'Am I doing O.K.?' '' Mr. Demoff said. ''He always worries.''

Today about 60 percent of Mr. Marino's liquid portfolio is in stocks, and the balance in tax-free bonds. The money is managed by Mr. Frankel, who has worked with Mr. Marino since 1984. Over the last six years, the equity portfolio has risen 7 percent on an annualized basis, exceeding the S.& P. 500 by more than 1 percentage point a year.

Like many star athletes, Mr. Marino is frequently approached with ideas, often from restaurant chains. Some have worked. The Dan Marino Town Tavern, in which Mr. Marino traded his name and advertising clout for equity, is about to open a fifth restaurant in Florida. But he has also been burned. A restaurant chain in Texas, Italian Oven, failed. And an investment in Einstein Bagels also did poorly.

Mr. Marino has long been cautious about money. The only son of a driver who delivered newspapers, Mr. Marino and his two sisters grew up in a blue-collar Pittsburgh suburb, where his father frequently tossed a football with him in the backyard.

An error has occurred. Please try again later.

You are already subscribed to this email.

The family lived simply. ''I don't remember my dad having any money,'' Mr. Marino said. ''We lived week to week. On Fridays, my Dad did his books and paid his bills. He might have 40 bucks or 20 bucks for the week. We didn't go on vacation. We didn't leave Pennsylvania until they began recruiting me for colleges like Clemson and Notre Dame.''

Like many working-class children, Dan Marino held a series of odd jobs, from mowing lawns to shoveling snow, but he dreamed of becoming a star athlete. While mowing lawns in the summer, he vowed he would never do that kind of work when he was older.

He was so obsessed with sports that he did not watch much television or show an interest in cars, his father, Dan Marino Sr., recalled. In fact, three learner's permits expired before the young athlete finally got his license at 18.

At the University of Pittsburgh, he was a star quarterback, but he was only the 27th selection in the National Football League 1983 draft. Finally the Miami Dolphins' head coach, Don Shula, grabbed him.

Mr. Marino's father introduced him to Mr. Demoff, then a well-known agent and lawyer. When ''I first met Dan, he had no sense at all about money,'' Mr. Demoff recalled.

After he signed with the Dolphins, ''I remember putting $50,000 in the bank and living my first season off it,'' Mr. Marino said. ''I had a car. I got myself a nice new stereo and I was happy.''

Mr. Clark put some of Mr. Marino's money in real estate tax shelters, which were already coming under government scrutiny. Mr. Demoff recalled that when he looked at Mr. Marino's finances the first time, ''I was very uncomfortable.'' He added: ''It didn't pass the smell test. I had two major accounting firms do independent reports.'' In fact, he said, ''I found that Clark had had some trouble with the I.R.S.''

When asked if he had had problems with the government, Mr. Clark said, ''Not really.'' In a telephone interview last week, he added: ''We won about 20 cases with the I.R.S. We had averaged a 35 percent rate of return on people's money.''

Mr. Demoff told Mr. Marino, ''You are not going to like this, but you are wrong to be working with Clark, and I want you to switch.''

Mr. Demoff, who by then was also representing Mr. Elway, introduced him to Charles Dostal, Mr. Elway's adviser, as well as Mr. Frankel, then a money manager at Lehman Brothers and an avid football fan. Mr. Marino chose Mr. Frankel. ''He had a good track record and we just kind of clicked,'' Mr. Marino said.

OVER the years Mr. Demoff replaced other advisers as well. ''We used to have annual 'state of the union' meetings at Dan's house with Shorty, myself and the accountants,'' he said. ''I watched the accountant in a meeting with the Marinos. He was going over expenses by line item and he got to landscaping and told Claire that the line item was too high,'' Mr. Demoff said. ''Danny got annoyed and Claire got upset. The Marinos don't need to be scolded. We found another accountant.''

Perhaps because he has such a strong relationship with his own father, Mr. Marino has ''put my trust in Shorty,'' who is 70.

Mr. Marino has never been a stock picker, though he can tick off conservative holdings like Wal-Mart, Pfizer and Citigroup. And he appreciates that Mr. Frankel ''didn't go real hard into the tech stuff.'' Mr. Frankel, a dedicated value investor, said he was always cautious about technology stocks.

Mr. Frankel said Mr. Marino's portfolio was up about 5 percent in 2001, but down about the same amount this year. ''This year has been my Waterloo,'' he said in an interview.

Over the years, Mr. Frankel has moved more of Mr. Marino's investments to bonds because of his income needs.

Those needs are large. The Marinos' son Michael, now 15, is autistic.

That probably affected the family more than any other single experience. At first the Marinos did not realize anything was wrong, but by the age of 2 Michael was still not talking, and tests soon revealed his condition.

The discovery stunned both Marinos, who poured enormous energy into getting their son the best help possible. Michael's illness also propelled the Marinos into philanthropy. They established a foundation that raises money to help children with development disabilities. To date the foundation has raised $3.6 million. (At a recent black-tie fund-raiser, Mr. Marino got up and sang a mean version of ''Mustang Sally.'')

TODAY Michael is in a regular school. ''He started mainstreaming about five years ago,'' his grandfather said. ''He is doing great.''

Mr. Marino know he has an expensive lifestyle. His other children are all in private school, he bought a house for his parents, ''and my wife is not cheap either,'' he said fondly.

And he is keenly aware that his children do not understand how unusual their lives are. ''It will take time for them to realize how difficult it is to duplicate this life-style,'' he said. But with his current discipline, he will probably serve as a good role model.